Waiting for the click of the lock
by CorvidCoccinelle
Summary: Dexter and Lumen are just starting out but does a crime scene point Dexter in the direction of home in his search for the killer?  This is outside the current story line, how I imagine next season might start. No spoilers for Season 5.
1. Chapter 1

I watch her frown as she carefully twists the tiny silver prongs in the lock. That look of concentration on her face speaks to me of other times when I have seen her look just like this and that spirals me into an entirely new realm of thought. New and inappropriate.

Something clicks and she grins to herself, mentally punching the air as she feels the lock give way for her. Just like I have. I can spot a metaphor when I see one. The lock breaking open as she delicately manoeuvres herself between the mechanisms designed to keep people out. How very apt, I think to myself. She leans back and breathes but she doesn't check the stopwatch. She set her own deadline, independent and determined to succeed in this as she is in everything else. It's one of the things which make her so fascinating. That and the frightening strength inside that slight body. The things she has seen, experienced and done are staggering. Even for an ex monster like me.

Because that's what I am. An ex monster. For years I thought Harry was right but now I realise that he only saw part of the picture, like someone looking through a keyhole sees only the empty room and doesn't see the plastic sheeting, the plastic wrap binding the victim to the table, the pictures taped to the walls, the blood…

Another click, she looks up at me and smiles. Amazing what that smile does to me. How her light shines into my dark corners, illuminating the shadows, seeing everything I am. She stands up and opens the door, swinging it out with a flourish. I smile and she beams. She tiptoes up to kiss me.

Her soft lips touch mine and it's like it always is, like the first time. I fight to keep the burning tower of desire escaping my control. Her knowledge of me, her wisdom and bravery, her ability to kill consumes me in a way I had never imagined I would feel. What did Debra call it? Beautiful. My Dark Passenger has someone with whom to ride into the dark streets. Someone with whom to hunt.

"How did I do?" she asks, taking my hand to look at the stopwatch.

"Five seconds better than last time." I smile. "You're a quick learner." She nods, happy with herself.

"Have we got time to…?" she grins sheepishly, I roll my eyes.

"We always have time for that." I tell her, enjoying the innuendo. I reach into the kit bag and get out the wrap which holds my knives. Her eyes glitter as I unpeel the soft material revealing the smart silver blades. I hand her the largest and she watches herself in its sheen. I see her face, split open by the light and full of joy. I breathe out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The blade flashes down as she slashes the air. She holds it like it is a part of me, careful and loving.

She's so entranced with the knife that she doesn't hear the footsteps coming down the side alley. This warehouse is out of the way of most people's usual routes to work and it's early morning so we weren't expecting interruptions. I grab her arm and she slides the knife out of sight, glancing about her so her fine blonde hair catches the early morning sun. Without feeling for my hand she passes me the blade. I slip it into the case and pack it swiftly in the bag, hoisting it onto my shoulder.

I clutch her hand and swing her out into the sunshine. We stroll towards the footsteps, a carefree couple enjoying the morning sun. I squeeze her fingers.

"Billy!" I shout for our imaginary dog. "Billy! Come back here boy!" she smiles to herself and turns to me just as the elderly security guard, no doubt a retired cop, comes into view.

"Sorry sir, have you seen our dog? He's about this big," she measure with her hand from the floor, "and black. Honestly I only let him off the leash for a second honey," these last words are directed at me. I roll my eyes at the old man who chuckles.

"Haven't seen any dog so far on my rounds but I'll keep my eyes open for you miss." He grins. Lumen smiles back at him and I can see he is taken in entirely. Who wouldn't be?

When we get back to the SUV she climbs into the passenger seat like it belongs to her. I check my watch and then my phone. There's a text from Debra.

'Hey Fuckwad brother, get your ass to the waterfront. Lots of blood.' Lumen watches me check the text, I show it to her and she smiles. She likes Debra, they're quite alike. Blunt, no nonsense, brave.

"I'll drop you off home on my way in. Got plans for today?" Lumen watches the cars pass us on the road, I look at her reflection in the windscreen as I pull away from the kerb and swerve into traffic.

"I'm meeting Sonja for lunch with Harrison later. But I have no plans today. Why? Have you got some research for me to do?" she is eager for the next kill. I know how she feels. It's been a while since the last time and I can feel the itch under my skin beginning.

"Not yet, but something will come up soon. Someone." I amend and she grins. We listen to the radio; loud music with a Latin feel seems to compliment the hot morning air. There is a comfortable silence between us. We don't need to fill the space between us with idle chatter, though we like to sometimes, just to prove to ourselves how normal we are. Most of the best parts of our relationship are completed in silence.

I swing the car to the side of the road and she pops the door open, grabbing her purse from the back seat and planting a kiss on my cheek as she slides off the chair and onto the sidewalk.

"Call me when you're on your way home." She waves and swings her bag onto her shoulder.

"Ok, have a good day." I drive to the waterfront where I find Debra and the rest of the team waiting for me, the blood guy.

"Took your time Dex!" this is Debra, a coiled spring of fire and expletive, my stepsister.

"Hey! If I had a girl like Dex's at home I wouldn't be rushing to get out of bed either!" Masuka, small Asian and possessing of an alarming knowledge of sexual deviance skips over to us, pleased with his quip. Debra rolls her eyes. "Is that what made you late huh Dex?" I smile and I know it looks forced. I'm only just getting used to these guys knowing about Lumen.

I have no idea how long people are supposed to mourn. I tried to look it up on the internet but all the various counselling sites seemed to disagree. In the end I didn't get a choice because Deb just didn't believe me when I said that Lumen was my tenant. She'd made some comment which made it quite clear she thought I was telling her a load of bull. And she was right. Only, right then, Lumen wasn't my girlfriend, but there was more, much more to our relationship than I was prepared to tell anyone. She'd seen me kill.

"Huh huh, he's not telling eh, Dex? A gentleman doesn't tell eh?" Masuka sniggers and nudges me in the ribs none too gently and I shrug. Deb rolls her eyes.

"So, blood?" I say, snapping on my latex gloves as she walks me over to where Angel and Quinn are looking at the ground. They look up and Angel smiles as he sees me. I squint in the sunlight at the marks on the ground.

It looks like a body has been dragged from this spot. The blood pattern is consistent with the victim still being alive when the dragging begun, the heart was still pumping blood at least until they had been dragged into the shade of the palms. The killer wasn't a big person; they took their time dragging the body this far, which implies they were small, young or maybe female. It's obviously a stabbing; sharp swirls of red punctuate each downward thrust with a sharp object. Is it any surprise my mind wanders to Lumen? Lumen swinging that knife down in a slice of silver, Lumen kneeling on the table to get a decent arc of motion on Alex Tilden, Lumen stabbing a finger into his forehead as her soft mouth says 'Thirteen'. I sigh and smile to myself.

"Hey Dex! Something amusing about this amigo?" Angel puts his arm over my shoulder and ushers me back to reality. I shake my head.

"No, no. just walking it out in my head." I cover hastily watching the smears of blood become dots and then...nothing. I frown, which way did they go?

"Hey! Over here!" It's Quinn beckoning to us from behind a parked white van. I jog over, keen to finish the puzzle and stop suddenly as a girl's pale body lies sprawled nearly under the truck's shadow, her dark hair fanned out like a black halo. It's the young woman from the coffee stand where Lumen and I grab our morning drink. She's always polite, smiles at me and asks if I'm doing anything good today. She knows how to make the coffee how I like it. I feel mildly annoyed that someone has killed her.

"You know her?" Angel looks at me and touches my arm. The recognition must show on my face and I find within me that part which is sad that my morning coffee will not be how I like it anymore and I grimace.

"Yeah, she works at the coffee stand on 8th. I go there most mornings." Angel looks at me and Quinn frowns and looks back at the body. I know he doesn't trust me but he's got no reason to think I'm anything to do with this.

"Name?" I shake my head, trying to remember the tag she wore on her shirt but nothing's coming back to me. The last few times I've been more occupied with my drinking companion than the waitress. My phone buzzes in my pocket.

"Hi, want to do something fun later? Lx" I smile, knowing that Masuka is going to ask me what the text says and make a few suggestions of his own. Mine and Lumen's idea of fun is very different to what he imagines.

"Sexting Dexter? Ooh that's almost a rhyme! Hey! Don't let me stop you getting your e rocks off!" he leers and I nod and smile noncommittally. I quickly send a text back.

"Sure, what do you have in mind? D." my thumb hovers over the 'x'; it just doesn't seem me somehow. This isn't like texting Rita, where the slightest little addition or omission could spark a whole raft of emotional upheaval. I send it raw and put the phone back in my pocket. The sun is beating down now and I watch the heat shimmer from the tarmac and realise that, if I'm going to get this crime scene done early, I'm going to have to start soon.

Four hours, four blonde hairs bagged, various blood spatters photographed and no murder weapon found. I head off back to the SUV having assured Deb that I'll process the blood later. I grab a clean shirt from the back seat of the car and pull off the one I've been wearing. Hours in the hot Miami sun and the smell of a crime scene are not attractive to anyone and I don't want to meet Lumen like this.

I smile to myself as I consider this change in my personality. Have I ever cared before about how I looked? Not beyond wanting to fit in, be unrecognised. There's a quotation from Dracula which always makes me smile. Something about no one noticing a stranger in a strange land. Stoker's serial killer had as much to hide as I do. I check my hair in the rear view mirror and flatten it with my hand. I start the engine and indicate out onto the highway.

The bright sunshine bakes through the windshield bouncing glare of the passing cars. Something about that blonde hair is niggling in my head. Of course the waitress could have had a blonde flatmate, be borrowing someone else's shirt but there was something about the shade of blonde which is scratching at the bottom on my subconscious.

I weave my way through the late afternoon traffic. Even with the windows down there is no breeze and I try to recall the last conversation I had with the waitress.

"Two coffees please..." I'm about to tell her how to make them but she just grins and grabs two paper cups.

"The usual?" I smile and nod and she begins the coffee ritual, banging the old grounds and grinding the new beans as she leans on the counter. "So, doing something good today?" Always the same cheery smile, the same cheery questions.

I look around the small area where the owner has set up some tables and chairs. It's the usual clientele. A new mother with her baby, a teenage boy on his way to school, skateboard parked under the chrome table.

"work." I smile and she pulls a face and laughs.

"Let me guess... you're a teacher?" I shake my head. We've played this game for weeks. It's unlikely she's ever going to guess 'blood splatter analyst and serial killer' but it's a harmless way to spend the time. There is a hand on my elbow, it's Lumen.

"Oh, hi. I thought you were staying in the car? Is Harrison ok?" I glance nervously to the back seat where I can see a small orange toy being waved about, Harrison seems fine. Lumen pauses and takes a long look at the waitress who is frothing the milk and humming to herself.

"He's fine. I just thought you might need a hand." I frown, a hand with two coffee cups? This must be code for something else. I look at Lumen who is still looking at the waitress and there's something in her expression that makes me pause. Is she jealous? Of the waitress? I sigh; it seems I will never understand this. What do I do now?

"Thanks, that's great." I kiss her cheek and she smiles eyes never leaving the waitress who is putting the cups on the counter. Lumen takes both cups and waits while I get out my wallet and pay.

"Have a good day, you guys!" the waitress calls before she turns to the next customer. Lumen hands me a coffee so she can climb into the passenger seat.

"She seems nice." She says, looking at me sideways, gauging my reaction.

"Huh?" I answer as I pull out into traffic, jamming my cup into the holder on the dashboard.

"The waitress, she seems nice. Do you see her every morning?" Something in her voice makes me look at her and then I go back to the road, I'm a careful driver.

"I don't know, maybe, I guess." I take another sip of my coffee as we pause at the lights.

"hmm." Lumen says thoughtfully.

I'm recalling this when I realise that, back in real time, the lights have changed and some guy in a Mercedes is honking his horn and yelling at me to move. I wave a friendly apology and put my foot on the gas. Yes, Lumen definitely didn't like that waitress.

She's waiting at the kerb as I pull over. The sun plays over her golden hair and she looks alive and shining. Her skinny jeans and the sunny yellow top she wears make her look younger than she is.

"Hi, good day?" she asks, mirroring my memories of the waitress. I look at her sharply.

"Well there's a murdered waitress at the waterfront so I guess it depends on what you call good." I smile and she frowns.

"A murdered waitress? God. I don't know how you can see those things all the time Dexter." I let that idea play over in my mind. This is the woman who can kill a man and say she feels fine, a woman who has watched me kill more than one man. But this proximity I have with death, the by product of murder, unnerves her. She is not a monster.

"Yeah. The girl from the 8th coffee stand." I watch her expression carefully. She frowns and then her eyes go wide.

"Jeannie? Oh god! What happened to her." She sound shaken and her hand goes to her throat.

"Stabbed, repeatedly, dragged behind a van in the parking lot. She was already dead by the time the killer got her there. They weren't very strong so the whole thing probably took a while." Lumen takes a deep breath and looks straight ahead. We don't speak for a while.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask as we get to the junction for home.

"Can we drive down near the beach? I want to sit and look at the waves." She smiles at me and I turn the car.

She switches the radio on and the DJ is speaking in Spanish, saying something about the weekend is on its way and the pretty girls are out in the sunshine. Lumen asks me what he is saying and I tell her. I reach my hand out and run my fingers through her hair and leave my hand resting on her shoulder. She laughs and puts my hand on her thigh. I squeeze that taut muscle and she sighs, a sound that sends tremors through me.

We get out of the car and walk onto the beach. She grabs my hand and holds it close to her side. We walk in silence until we reach some rocks. She pulls me down to sit with her.

"How was Harrison? We should try to get back soon so we can take him to the park, Sonja's asked for an early finish tonight."

"He's great, have you seen him pull himself along the floor now? He's so strong." She smiles and I relish in the fact that with her I can share conversations like this. She leans in to me and kisses my cheek. I hold her face with one hand and kiss the side of her mouth, uncertain even through our time together whether this is something I'm allowed to do, whether this attention is wanted.

She kisses me back, capturing the hand on her cheek with her own slim fingers and pressing her mouth against me. Her other hand holds my hand down in my lap, she leans her weight on her arms, pinning me in place while she investigates my lips. I moan and she catches her breath.

My heart is pounding and I can feel my body's response to her touch. All that longing, that hidden side of me is waiting to be set free. She pulls back.

"If we go home we could wait for Sonja to bring Harrison to the apartment." She says innocently. I nod, unable to speak.

**Ok, so this is my first Dexfic. It's a bit of a challenge to swap from Sherlock to Dxter but I tried my best. This is a two parter I think, will be an M rating next time! Let me know what you think... cheers for reading. **


	2. Click , click , click

I unlock the door to the apartment and feel her hand on the small of my back. She pushes gently, the gesture betraying some of the impatience she feels and making me shudder at the thought of what she is impatient to do. I turn as I open the door, putting my hands on her shoulders and pulling her to me. I kiss her face, moving to her mouth only when I am certain that this is what she wants. She leans back against the door frame and puts her hands up to my arms, holding me still but keeping me where she wants me. The tide of blood is flooding through me and I can hear nothing but the pull of her desire. She's like the moon, I move with her.

She kisses me hard, her soft mouth opening, inviting my tongue to taste her. She's like electricity, startling and thrilling. My head is pounding and I can hear my breathing is erratic, dragged over searing lungs. Her hands move from my arms to my hips, she pushes herself against me, moaning when she feels how hard I am for her. The noise impales me, fixes me in this spot, I shudder under her touch. There is nothing but Lumen.

For a moment or two we are content just to kiss, relishing the fire which is burning between us, scorching where we touch. She breaks away from me, her face is flushed, her pupils wide and her hair tumbling over her face. She is beautiful. Beautiful in her desire, in her strength to overcome what has been done to her and open herself to me. I realise with a jolt that this opening is mutual; this trust is on both sides. We are panting, out bodies fighting for air like drowning swimmers. She smiles and giggles, I laugh. She's right, this is ridiculous. We're like teenagers.

She takes my hand and pulls me to the sofa, turning and pushing me so that I fall back, laughing openly now. She sits astride me, gasping as she feels my arousal though my thin chinos. Her knee catches the TV remote.

Before she can move her face to me, before everything is once again lost in Lumen I see the screen. Silently the camera pans the place where the waitress used to work, where Jeannie used to work, I correct myself. There is the stand, the counter empty, there is the new mother with the baby, and there the teenage skater boy with long blonde hair… the Dark Passenger awakes.

Lumen notices that my concentration is wavering but she doesn't get annoyed. She turns to look at the screen, and then she looks back to my face. She is still panting but I hear her slow her breathing.

"What is it?" she says, completely calm, her own instinct telling her to pay attention.

"That boy." I point to the screen where silently the boy is answering some questions, his face sullen, moody. "His hair." Lumen frowns.

"Blonde, why?" she moves off my lap, sits beside me, still holding my hand. I hear her breath quickening again, she has scented the kill just as I have. She sits forward, her eyes squint.

"We found blonde hairs on the victim." She gets up and goes to the laptop, I hear it boot up and watch as she taps. The news report finishes with La Guerta giving the usual spiel about how the police are investigating and young women should be careful in the area. I switch off the TV and sit for a moment. The only noise is Lumen typing, humming to herself as she works. After a few minutes she looks up from the laptop.

"It's him." I frown, what? She's been tapping for five minutes. I stand and cross to the desk. She shows me the screen.

She's on a Facebook page; the picture is of the boy in question performing some trick on his skateboard. James Harris.

"How did you..?" I look at her, she smiles up at me.

"Easy, the news website told me his name in a caption and I checked him on FB. These kids don't ever use enough security." She frowns and for a moment I see the mother she will become. "It's all here, his date of birth, where he lives, goes to school." She tuts and I smile.

"And he killed the waitress because...?" She grins and scrolls down the page. There is a long conversation between this boy and someone who calls themselves 'luvchic88', their picture is a coffee cup with a whip in its hand. The logo on the cup is of the 8th coffee stand, the caption beneath reads 'slaves to the morning brew'. I point to the screen.

"You think this is Jeannie?" Lumen nods.

"They talk further down in the comments about seeing each other every morning. All harmless flirting, mainly from him…" she scrolls down and flicks a short nail at the monitor. "and then there's this part where it gets a bit sour, I think he asked her out and she thought it was a joke." I nod, this sounds more plausible.

"Here, let me." She stands and lets me take the keyboard. Like dancers we change position. I tap in my password to the database which will open James Harris' home life for me and there it is.

"Father, two arrests for assaulting the mother. Prison for a while, sexual assault." I look up at Lumen. Her eyes are wide and I can see the pulse jumping in her neck. Her hand, resting lightly on my shoulder, tightens and I feel my stomach muscles clench.

"This is too easy to follow. Deb will find this boy in seconds." I flick back to the Facebook page but it's gone. The screen tells me the site is unavailable. He's pulled his profile. "Clever boy." I whisper to the empty screen.

"Deb will be able to get that back up but it'll take a while. Gives us time." Lumen smiles at me, there is something feral about her expression. I stand up and write the boy's address on a post it.

"Fancy a drive?" She grabs her purse and suddenly kisses me fiercely. There is adrenaline and passion in her kiss. Later, I remind myself, later, there is time for this tide of longing later.

"Shall I text Sonja and tell her we'll be late?" I nod, grateful for her organisation. It's been hard doing this all alone.

We sit in the car, down the street from the boy's house, long enough to know no one is at home. At a silent cue between us we get out and wander down the street, if anyone enquires we'll be looking for that damned dog again.

We saunter until we're at the back of the houses. A long dusty alley way bisects the one storey yellow painted walls. The gate to the boy's house is open. Lumen squeezes my hand. If she goes in first 'looking for Billy' then she's less likely to arouse suspicion. I nod.

In seconds she comes back and pulls me along. I move to the back door and slide my lock pick out of my pocket. She holds out her hand and I grin. I slap the small leather case into her palm like a challenge.

She crouches to the keyhole. Quickly and deftly she persuades the lock to let us in. I watch her slim, long fingers twisting and stroking the pins, my heartbeat quickens and it's not the break in which makes my blood pound this time.

Inside is typical of a lower class family. The expensive TV set which takes up most of one of the tiny walls of the lounge and the spaghetti tangle of cables beneath it which snake out to various gaming equipment. And the empty fridge, the cupboards filled only with stale air and noodles.

I take the lead along the hall to his bedroom, the skateboard poster on the wall alerts us to its occupant. His laptop is open, downloading three films, all violent and plotless. Lumen looks at this and sighs, shaking her head. I smile.

Under his bed I find the obligatory box of teenage boy porn, but at the bottom of the sticky pile, Lumen wrinkles her nose and I grin as my latex fingers peel them apart, is a magazine which is far more disturbing.

The pictures are graphic and sexually violent. I look at them and feel nothing. This strikes me as strange; I feel intense desire for Lumen, most of it centring around her skill with a knife and her skill with me. But these pictures give me nothing. I flick, the pages are well thumbed and I can tell they are beloved because of the stiff pages. I turn one of them. The girl in the picture is being assaulted with a knife. I glance to Lumen; her eyes are black and her expression grim. Over the place where the girl's head should be is pasted a picture of the smiling face of Jeannie, the coffee waitress. I close the magazine and slide the whole thing back under the bed. Lumen turns away.

"Look at this." She has a small plastic square in her palm. The bedside drawer is open beside her. I cross the room. The plastic is a name tag, an 8th coffee name tag, it reads 'Jeannie, what can I get you today?' There is a small splodge of something brown in the corner. I take a bag from my pocket and use a scalpel to scrape some of the substance into it and seal the neck. I look at Lumen.

"Can we kill him?" She whispers, her voice excites me, the Dark Passenger is awake, anxious to begin. I nod.

Lumen waits in the station parking lot while I check the blood sample next to Jeannie's sample from the waterfront. I move quickly to my desk, flip the blinds closed before anyone registers I'm here. I am matching up the slides, checking for similarities when Masuka claps me on the back.

"Hey Dex, when am I going to get properly introduced to this fine lady of yours?" he leers. Lumen would eat you for breakfast I think, as I smile affably back at him.

"Oh you know how it is; we've got better things to do at the moment, eh Masuka." I nudge him and grin. I'm telling the truth, we do have better things to do, but the sexual suggestion puts him off the scent for now.

"Dexter, you dog! Well, you know who to come to if things start to get a little stale in the bedroom." His eyebrows waggle alarmingly and he dips his voice to a pseudo whisper. I nod, not really seeing what situation would ever have me asking Vince Masuka for help.

"Thanks, Vince. It's er... all good right now though." I put up my thumbs, wishing he would go away and leave me to check the blood sample. With a slap on my shoulders and a mumbled comment that I am a 'lucky dog' he wanders off to bother Quinn.

I go back to the slides. They're a match. I don't need to run anymore tests to check this out; the microscope only confirms what my Dark Passenger has been telling me all along. James Harris has to die.

I switch off the microscope, swing my bag onto my shoulder and make for the elevator. Deb comes out of a side room and spots me, I wave and am just about to get in the lift but she shouts to me.

"Hey! I thought you were at home?" she strides over, her small frame seeming to contrast with her confident attitude. "What ya doin'?" she grins at me.

"Nothing. I just left some paperwork here that I need to get done by the morning." I pat my bag. She nods, still grinning. "What?" I ask eventually, exasperated by her enigmatic expression and wanting to get back to Lumen, back to the plan.

"Nothing, nothing. Just a little..." she reaches up my hand and I watch it move towards my face. She rubs at something on the side of my mouth. She looks at her fingers. "'barely there' lip-gloss." I sigh. How long has that been there? She is grinning; rocking back on her heels she's enjoying this so much. Great.

"Any luck with the waterfront waitress?" I ask, changing the subject. Her face becomes serious.

"No, we're waiting for the tests to come back on those hairs we found. We've questioned the boyfriend but he seems to check out. Nada." She frowns and shakes her head.

"What colour is his hair?" I ask, knowing she will have thought of this but hoping to reopen the line of questioning anyway, distract her from Lumen and I. She quirks her mouth at the edge, flicks her brown straight hair from her shoulder with her fingers.

"Ah, he's got a Mohican. Green. So, no go."I nod and grimace, sharing her annoyance.

"Right, well, call me when the results come back in. I'm going to go and pick up Harrison from Sonja's." She frowns.

"What? I thought I was having him tonight? Lumen called and asked if I would take him, I... oh. Oh fuck. Fuck me and my big fucking mouth. Sorry Dex." She shakes her head. I frown.

"What? Lumen said what?" she slaps me on the shoulder.

"I guess she has a big night planned for you, bro." She grins. "Promise me you'll look surprised right?" I nod and Deb laughs at my stunned expression. "Don't worry so much! I'm sure you'll have fun. Just don't share it ok? I don't think I could cope."

She walks away shaking her head and chuckling to herself as the lift doors open.

Night falls and we are ready. The knives, the plastic wrap, the pictures of Jeannie from the crime scene are in the trunk. We know that James Harris will be at the skate park tonight, it's where he spends all his free time, when he's not stalking pretty waitresses.

We need to eat and I suggest a restaurant a few blocks from the park. We can have food and still pick up James when the park is getting empty. I can't see anyone worrying about his whereabouts at least until tomorrow morning.

I watch Lumen eat her dessert. The ice cream slides off her spoon as she brings it to her mouth, she is too busy watching me to notice and she puts the spoon to her lips before she realises it is empty.

"Here, let me." Without thinking I scoop some ice cream on to my spoon and lift it to her lips. She smiles and lets me guide it to her mouth. She licks the spoon clean; I watch that small pink tongue caress the shiny silver. I feel my stomach tighten. She grins a lopsided grin at her own attempt at sexiness. She has nothing about which to be self conscious; to me her presence is electric.

She takes my hand and pulls me towards her over the table. I allow myself to lean towards her face. She kisses me urgently, the other hand in my hair, grabbing at the back, creating a delicious pain. I try to breathe through the storm of longing.

"What time should we go?" she whispers into the kiss. I run my fingers through her hair, it's like silk.

"Soon," I mumble as I feel her tongue slipping over my lip, tingling where it touches. She gently tugs at my lip with her teeth. I growl, unaware of the sound in my chest. She takes a deep breath and kisses me again. I shudder.

When she pulls away I notice that an older couple on the next table are smiling. They are right, we are sharing our passion, but it's a dark passion that they cannot understand. I look at her. I cannot believe this is happening to me. I cannot believe I have found her.

I pay the bill and we wander, holding hands, to the SUV. We drive a block down towards the empty apartment we have chosen as the kill room. I park around the back and we move our things inside. We don't speak, preferring the eloquence of glances, gestures, smiles to communicate a ritual which seems so fluent that it is astonishing that it is not of our joint devising.

I watch her stretch the sheeting across the walls, breaking the tape with her teeth, slicing though the surplus to make neat edges. I move to the table to straighten the wrap of knives where they lie askew but she is there before me, adjusting so that they are at right angles with the table corner. She smiles at me. She unfastens the box of plastic film, spooling out enough to make it easy for me to take a hold of when it comes to the part where I wrap James Harris to the table. She's like a wife laying the table for her husband. Efficient, smiling, happy.

I go out of the room, to the bathroom, to change into my killing clothes. I've never changed at a scene before but our cover as evening diners makes it necessary. The room is plastic wrapped and when we've finished I will bag it up and take the evidence with us.

She opens the door, her dark trousers and her long sleeved t shirt in her hand. We look at each other for a long time. She gestures that I should begin. I feel nervous taking off my clothes with her watching. Her eyes miss nothing; I feel them searching my skin, checking out my scars. As I pull my shirt over my head I feel her hands on my chest. Her fingers rub against my nipples and I gasp for breath, I hear her chuckle. My shirt is off and I grin at her ruefully. She is wearing just her bra and panties. Her smooth skin is crisscrossed with silver scars, they're like a decoration.

She smiles and kisses me again and I pull her flush against my body. There is an urgency in our movements but both of us are enjoying the burn of this overwhelming feeling. Neither of us thought we would ever feel it again. Her eyes are open, boring into me as she grinds herself against me. My head falls back and she holds my face, forces me to look at her. She is all honesty and unpolished passion. She is intoxicating.

She pushes me back into the kill room, following me with her body until my thighs hit the edge of the table, for one wild moment I think about turning and fucking her right here in the spot where we are about to kill James Harris. Then I remember the fluids, the evidence which we might leave, how we need to be at the top of our game and I stop. She stops too, in the same instant as though she read my mind.

She clears her throat and arranges imaginary clothes. I grin. She picks up her dark clothes and puts them on, I watch her dress, and I watch her become the partner of the Dark Passenger. She is not Lumen, she is Number 13.

**Next chapter they are going to kill this guy and have sex. I promise. It looks like a three parter and I might write more. These two love the tease and I'm enjoying writing it. Does that word 'fucking' stand out as wrong? I can't decide. This is a side to Dexter that we don't see and if I don't write it this way now then I have to be euphemistic in the next chapter. I'd appreciate your advise. Thanks so much for the reviews; I really thought no one would read this! Cheers for reading. **


	3. The Tumblers fall

I hear his footsteps on the path; if he gets on his board then we are going to have to stop him before he completely bypasses the place we have prepared for him. If that happens, if we hear the wheels of his board instead of the slap of his sneakers, then Lumen will step out on to the path and stop him while I administer the M99.

But he seems content to walk tonight. The evening is hot, even at this close to midnight and the huge moon bathes the streets, the cars, my needle, in silver. I step out from behind him and slide the point into his neck. Almost instantly he sags and I heave his light body into my arms and step back into the shadows. He is all limbs, not heavy at all to carry as I take him to our room.

This time Lumen is here while I prepare the victim. With Tilden, she let me undress him and cocoon him in the plastic wrap which pinned him to the table like a dissection. This time she wants to do it all. I love her.

Efficiently, like hyenas stripping a carcass, we unpeel his baggy sweater, his t shirt, his loose jeans and bright sneakers. I watch her smooth his hair from his face as I wrap the film over him, under him, fixing him in place. She lays the scalpel and the slide out, unwraps the blades and stands back, smiling quietly.

"Do you want to..?" I indicate the scalpel and marvel at my willingness to relinquish this part of the process which is so important to me. "Should we make two?" She frowns, looks down at the boy who seems to be sleeping so peacefully. He'll be sleeping in much deeper peace soon.

"No, he's ours. He belongs to us both. You do it this time." She smiles at me, like we're deciding who drives home from a party. I nod.

Stillness falls over us, the ritual begins.

I press the smelling salts under his nose and his eyes startle open. He gasps a breath which forces his rib cage up against the plastic wrap, he realises he is trapped and struggles briefly before he realises that this is not going to get him anywhere. His eyes scan the room.

"What the fuck? What? Who… who are you? What have you….?"

"Shhh." Lumen's voice is excited, emotional. It makes me shiver. The boy looks at her widely, his eyes rolling white into his head. He opens his mouth, maybe to scream and I stuff the white gauze between his lips and he moans, scared, just how Jeannie must have felt.

I pick up the scalpel, the sliver of silver glints in the light. Lumen looks at me. Her eyes travel over my body, down and back to my face making me tremble with the knowledge that this act, this taking of a life is turning her on. Is it the blood, the power? The justice? Or it is some heady combination of all three? There is no time for analysis now.

I take the scalpel and show him the bright, sharp edge. His eyes go wide and he tries to scream. Lumen puts her black hand over his mouth, her face near to where I draw the blade across his cheek. He hisses in his breath and so does she. I hear my heartbeat surging in my ears as I always do the first time I cut them, but this time there is a frisson of something else.

She holds the slide for me in her beautiful gloved hands. I take the sample and drop it onto the glass. We look at each other through the growing red spot as I sandwich the pieces of the slide together. Her face is serene in the red film.

He's trying to speak, making the same sounds over and over again. I frown, Lumen looks up at me, her pupils are huge.

"He's asking us why." She says simply. She turns and points to the pictures of Jeannie. The press release of her at the beach the summer before, tanned, smiling. The crime scene photos of her punctured and pale body. He moans the sound they all make eventually. The sound of guilt catching up with them, of regret that this act has brought them to my table, to our table. Lumen's face is cold.

"You killed her because she didn't want you." She says simply. The boy tries to thrash his limbs, is he hoping to break the tightly bound plastic or is he trying to avoid the inevitable, his death? He makes a noise, it sounds like he's saying no. I pull the gauze from his mouth and bend my face to his.

"What? You didn't kill her? The blood on the name tag is an accident? The snuff mags with her face on it and your spunk on them is a figment of our imaginations?" his eyes are pleading and he whimpers. The noise sends a thrill though me and I can't help but glance at Lumen. Her eyes are alight; her chest rises and falls quickly with excitement. There is something primal about us doing this together, something dark and erotic. I shove the gauze between his lips and hold out my hand for the blade.

She passes me the one I want without even asking. I take it in my gloved hands, positioning my fingers in the right place, one hand above the other. I touch the tip to his heart and pull back. Lumen's hands come out and cover mine; her slim fingers grip my own. We look at each other, our eyes locked, our breath erratic and broken.

The world goes into slow motion. Together we raise our arms, my muscles protesting as I shorten my arc so that it matches hers. Her lips are parted and she licks her lower lip, capturing it between her teeth. I drink her in, her tense body, her intent concentration. The second stretches out between us, shining in the lights we have set up, the plastic wrap glittering like Christmas. I sigh.

The knife flashes down between us, almost without our volition, like our passion has animated the cold steel with its fire. I feel the impact, the penetration, the give of the ribs and muscles and the sound of the body opening to our blade. My eyes never leave hers. The body between us makes a sighing sound, something like a sound of love. Her lips part, she pants and I watch the blood pound in her throat, the way the soft skin stretches over the clavicle and dips beneath the dark fabric of her shirt. My mouth is dry. I lick my lips.

We pull the knife free. The gesture is easy and the blood pools up from the wound we have made and spills effortlessly over the plastic. Lumen lets go of the blade with one hand, she reaches out to me. I lean over the narrow table, placing the knife onto the table and she kisses me.

It's like nothing I've ever felt before. The release of the death, the sharp peace which comes with it now has an electrical charge, shocking me, reminding me that I am flesh.

It's like a ballet, the way we clean up. The slicing open of the binding wrap, the buzz of the power saw echoing the buzzing in my ears as I look at her carefully cleaning the blades. She sheaths the sharp weapon smoothly into the wrap. I look at her and I know what she is thinking, the imagery is too strong for both of us. She bites her lip, runs her hand around the now concealed edge and looks up, she sees me watching. I take a deep breath and she smiles darkly.

We each know our roles, even though this is unspoken between us. There is something right about the way we work together. Something fundamental here about man and woman. Her fingers smooth along the tube of the transparent plastic as she folds it into small bundles, I watch her hands sliding along the length of sheeting and I pause, leaving the limb I am cutting to ooze silently as I try to tear my eyes from this gesture which my body interprets with alarming results.

She looks up and sees me watching. Her eyes travel to the sections of the body I have laid out on the table, neatly wrapped in black garden refuse bags. Seven bags. She looks at me from under her lashes and smiles. Turning, she reaches up to pull the sheeting down as we disassemble our room from within. Her t shirt rides up at the back, revealing the soft skin, the pale hairs silver in the light, the hint of a curve which disappears into the waistband of her pants. Unconsciously I lick my lips. The tension is building in my body, I am hard already and I remind myself that this must come first, that I cannot just have her here, desperate and needy as I am.

I take the torso in my hands and heave it against my chest, the dead flesh crackles against the plastic apron. I struggle briefly to grab the bag with my free hand, something which has always been a problem for me. Lumen is there. She briefly takes in the sight of my hand gripping the pale flesh, how my fingertips indent slightly into the skin as I hold it against me. I watch her face flush and I know she is thinking of how my hands will feel on her body. She holds open the bag and I slide the body into the dark opening. It thuds to the ground, the sound visceral, carnal. A warm waves washes over me, she feels this as much as I do.

Is it the relief of being able to share this with her, the knowledge that I have nothing to hide? Or is it that the killing is a turn on for us both? I have no idea.

The dance continues, each noise we make, each movement is interpreted by our libidos until I can almost smell sex in the air between us. I fight to focus, shaking my head against the thick atmosphere until it is time to open the back door and load the SUV.

The night air is a welcome change. Hot though it is and scented with night blooming flowers it is a step closer to what I really want. A step closer to disposing of James Harris and possessing Lumen. Still silent we pack the trunk placing the soiled plastic, folded on its own secrets, around the edges of the black bags, pinning them in place.

Out here, in the moonlit yard, no one is overlooking us; there are no CCTV cameras and no neighbours. I strip off my shirt. I hear her suck in her breath and hold it. My blood is pounding. I lock my eyes on hers as I take my clothes from the kit bag and shake them out. I know that she can see all of me now, no gloom or shadows to hide my arousal, how much I need her. She watches me as I kick off the rubber shoes and unzip my pants. I step out of them, feeling the hot air on my naked skin. The fabric of my shorts seems unnatural, breaking with the primal moment. Her eyes drop from my face and she looks me over slowly, she blinks, a gesture of complete desire. She lifts her hands to the hem of her shirt and pulls upwards. The sight of her revealed to me, takes away my breath. Her silver scars dimly gleam as though they are pointing her out to me. Look here Dexter, they seem to say, this is all yours. This is what you want.

She slips out of her pants, standing in her underwear looking at me, all of me. A soft sheen of sweat laces her skin and I watch the gleam of moonlight play over her stomach, her ribcage, as she breathes heavily. I imagine that I can see her heart beating. For a moment we just stare and want. We are Adam and Eve, the fruit of forbidden knowledge in our bellies.

"We can't do this here." Her voice is low, trembling. The realisation that we both really are thinking about the same thing is like a blow to my stomach. I shake my head, waking from the stupor of the longing between us. I nod and pick up my clothes, putting them on slowly, reluctant to let go of this intimacy.

She climbs into the passenger seat and puts her hand on my knee. It is the first time she has touched me and the power of the sensation of her hand on my flesh is overwhelming. My erection is painful, throbbing, hard to think past. I start the engine.

At the marina we load the boat with the bags and plastic. 'Slice of Life' bobs in the water like she is happy to see us. I grab Lumen's hand to haul her aboard; she slips and falls into my arms. I crush her to me, the nearness of her skin intoxicating. I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent, getting drunk on her. Her arms come up over my shoulders and she kisses me. I feel the dam begin to burst inside.

Her body is burning me through our clothes, each undulation, each curve crying out to me to be kissed, touched, owned. The movement of the boat beneath us pushes us together, forces us to press our bodies flush against each other. Her hands slip down to cup my ass and I suck in breath, the sensation of her fingers squeezing communicates to the throbbing pulse in my groin. We've got to get out to sea; soon I will have no control left.

I keep my arm about her waist as I move to start the engine. I steer us out to open water, the breeze created by our speed whips her hair back from her face and she turns to me, smiling, exhilarated. I grin back at her. The atmosphere between us shifting to a sense of freedom.

She stands in front of me, looking ahead, my arms either side of her as I grip the wheel. The sensations of possession and belonging, of rightness and destiny are heady about us. She turns and puts her arms about me, pressing her face against my chest, moving her cheek over my hard nipples. I am coasting on a swell of desire. I take a hand from the wheel and smooth her hair back from her face, she smiles up at me.

When I know we are far enough out I kill the motor and drop anchor. Together, panting with the exertion, we dump the bags overboard. I move them to the edge and she pushes them into the inky depths. The water splashes up at us, feeling icy on our hot skin. She laughs as each bag is released to the ocean.

When we are done we look at each other with the realisation that there is nothing left to do. Nothing to stop us, hold us back from what we want. She comes to me; I crush her soft mouth under my lips. My hands hold her arms tightly and I have to tell myself to be careful, don't scare her Dexter. But the rush of lust and longing is too big for me to hold back.

Her hand snakes between us and she strokes me through the thin material of my pants. I put back my head, my brows knotted together with the force of this feeling and I groan. I say her name, whispering it desperately as I kiss her throat. She arches back her neck for me, offering herself to me. I do not refuse her gift.

I pick her up and carry her to the soft rug which covers part of the deck. Sometimes I sit here and just think. That part of my brain is in the backseat tonight. I place her carefully and kneel between her legs. She reaches up to me, pulling my hair at the nape of my neck as I bend to kiss her. I run my fingers under her shirt, feeling her hot skin searing my hands. I skim them over her bra, over her nipples, they are hard and she arches under my touch. I can barely think, sex has never been like this before. Not so animal, so mindless, not until the last few seconds when I can't keep hold of myself anymore. But with Lumen I lose myself instantly. I don't know who I am, or what I should be doing. I only know what I want. What I have to have.

She fumbles with the hem of my shirt and I pull it over my head impatiently, hearing the seams rip as I drag the material over my head and throw it behind me. She sits up and takes off her top, I put my hands over hers as she reaches for the straps of her bra. I slip them down over her shoulders, searching her face for signs of fear as I realise I am pinning her arms down. She looks up at me, more open and more trusting than anything I have seen since I first held Harrison in my arms.

I rasp my tongue over her nipples, closing my mouth over them and pulling from her gasps and sharp cries as I tease the delicate skin between my teeth. Gently, Dexter, gently, I remind myself. I move down, past her navel, swirling my tongues in its depths and earning a giggle and a thrust of her hips as I circle lower.

My hands are on the waistband of her pants and she moves impatiently. I sit back and let her unfasten them , opening my eyes wide as she wriggles them down and off, taking her panties with them. She is naked.

She is naked and she is mine. The thought reverberates around the landscape in my head. It echoes from the places where other things should be, things more normal people have had since birth. Things like social norms, how to mourn, to be shocked by blood, polite conversation, how not to be a murderer.

I bend and continue my tongue's path down her body, resting my hands on her hips to hold her still so I can find where she wants me most. She is wet and open and the smell of her fills me, blocking out everything else. I press the tip of my tongue against her, searching out the hard from the soft. She hisses as I run my tongue over her, skimming a figure of eight over that hard knot of pleasure, making her mine for eternity with the symbol. She begins to move above me.

I match her thrusts with my mouth, swirling gently and then pressing more fiercely as she bucks and twists. She grabs my hair and pulls me to her, in my mind I will her to come, I will her to feel how much I need her. Wordlessly with my mouth I tell her I love her.

I reach up and caress her breasts with my blunt fingers, nipping, rolling as she groans and pants. Her body jumps in time to my movements. She shouts out one word. My name. And she comes for me. I slide back along her, she is panting, smiling. She wipes my mouth with her hand and kisses me.

I lie alongside her, watching her flushed face, watching her gain control over her breathing. Her hands are playing idly with my hair and I think I could ignore the terrible throbbing urgency from my groin if she asked me to. She smiles at me, her eyes pinning me down and looking into me as though she can read my thoughts.

Her hands skim down, over my bare chest, flat against my stomach muscles down to the waistband of my chinos. She tugs, still smiling. I stand up and take them off.

"And the rest." She says her breathing hitching. I can hardly stand, my legs tremble as I kick off my shorts. "You're beautiful." She says sighing. I don't know what to say. No one has ever called me beautiful before. She reaches up her hand and pulls me down to her.

I want so much to be inside her and once again it's like she can read my thoughts. She opens her legs as I kneel down on the deck. The moonlight slicks her arousal silver, shadowing between her legs. I can hardly breathe. Her hands slip over me, stroking the length of me and I put back my head and surrender to the intense pleasure which threatens to overspill me like a wave. On and up, the sensation of her small hands on my hard cock brings me to the edge. No more, I can't stand any more. I still her hand with my fingers; she lies back on the rug, head back, her body open.

I move forward and hold her knees carefully as I bring myself to her, feeling like a worshipper, a slave. She gasps and shudders as I enter her, the feeling of her tight muscles squeezing me, possessing me as I possess her. Slowly and carefully I move until I am in her as far as I will go. She lets out a long breath which shudders at the end. Her eyes never leave mine as her hips jump against me, pushing me deeper.

I brace myself on my hands and rock backwards, her body follows mine and we slow dance to the rhythm of this dark lust which consumes us. We are slippery, alive and trembling.

I feel the growing tightness in my stomach and I force myself to concentrate. Leaning on one hand I bring the other down to touch her, her nipples and then down until I can feel myself moving inside her. My thumb brushes her clitoris and she arches up, a new angle and a new depth making us both gasp for air. I match my thrusts to the circles of my thumb.

Our eyes never leave each other as we tumble together through space, our bodies joined and whole. Her body clutches me, holding me fiercely and I give her everything. I give her all my doubt, my alienation, my monster self. We are partners, lovers, soulmates. She doesn't cry out this time, I feel her tighten, flexing against my sensitive flesh as she comes. She holds my head between her hands and watches me as I unravel. I say her name; I let the monster shriek it into the dark. She smiles.

I hold her as we still our breath, take in once again this marvel, this intimacy we never thought imaginable. From my pants pocket my phone beeps. Lumen snags it with her toes and hoists it over to us. I pick it up and check the text.

"Harrison sleeping soundly. Hope you've had fun! Deb x" I show Lumen the screen and we laugh.

**Hope you enjoyed my little foray into Miami! And I hope the killing and the sex was worth waiting for! Help me out with words for female genitals, all I could think of were sappy or clinical. Should I do some more Dexter/Lumen? Thanks for the reviews, it's been so great to have the support. I really thought no one wold read this Cx**


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